46. Cato
Cato
My senses are on fucking fire as my body prepares to fight.
Tension builds in the silence, so thick I’m not even sure words would carry through it if someone dared to speak.
I take a quick assessment of the guards in the room, calculating odds and plotting weak spots in case we have to fight or run.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Vaelor demands, her voice carrying the kind of authority that makes my spine straighten and shoulders square. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
Ronan snarls, posture tense. “A joke? You accuse me of traveling all this way, half my friends nearly dying to get here, just to pull some elaborate scheme? For what?”
Ailynor’s three tails lash behind her, the tips snapping like whips. “I won’t pretend to know your intentions, but you are no blood of mine. I have only carried one child, and he was killed nearly a century ago.”
“So you were told,” he retorts.
She lets out a harsh laugh and tosses her head again, slamming her palms on the table as she leans closer.
“His entire settlement was destroyed. I saw the reports myself. I checked the wreckage myself.” Her tails thrash harder, one of them smacking against the leg of the table with a loud crack.
“Do you truly expect me to be so na?ve? I could throw you in the dungeons for the insult.”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. “My village was attacked, yes. Everyone was killed except me.”
“And you were special enough to be spared? For what reason?”
“Punishment for my mother, apparently. My rebel mother. They took me as payback for her desertion, and it took me a lifetime to learn it.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “I won’t stand for deceit in my house.”
He stands, baring his teeth as the guards inch closer. “Deceit? I’m not lying, you just refuse to hear the truth!”
“What truth?!” she demands. “Speak plainly and choose your words carefully. I don’t have time for riddles.”
“My name is Ronan,” he says, voice steady despite the tension rolling off him. “My father was Regalis, and my mother was called Ailynor.”
The Vaelor stares at him, her brown eyes burning. Her body is rigid, shoulders squared and ready for a fight as the silence stretches. “If you are truly who you claim, prove it.”
“Prove it?” he growls. “I was a child when you disappeared. Five years old!”
“You think you’re the first to step into my house and claim to be my blood?
” Ailynor demands. “Others have come before you and tried my patience, and it did not end well for them, either.” She stands and gestures towards the guards as she storms towards the door.
They turn towards Ronan as one and take a synchronized step forward.
Ronan’s nostrils flare as he shouts towards her retreating back. “When Father fled with me, it was night.”
The Vaelor stops and goes completely still.
“I didn’t have time to bring any of my toys,” Ronan continues as the guards exchange a glance, unsure of their next move.
“But there was one I carried everywhere, and it was already tucked in my pocket. It was a little karvox made from a fallen Dirdira branch.” Ronan releases a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh.
“I hated their tusks… thought they looked mean with them, so you—”
“—carved them crooked,” she finishes in a whisper, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Because crooked tusks meant they were friendly.”
Ronan’s eyes are full of emotion as he glances down at his hand, like he’s picturing the toy in his palm. “I was too little to realize all karvox had crooked tusks. Every time I saw them, I’d check. I thought I was the luckiest person in the world because every one I ever saw had crooked tusks.”
The color drains from her face as she stares at him.
An obvious battle plays out behind her eyes—logic and disbelief fighting the proof standing right in front of her as she searches for some way to refute his story.
A heavy breath rushes out as her expression goes slack, sounding as though she’s been punched.
Her hand trembles as she lifts it to her mouth.
“By the Fates…” she whispers, voice breaking. “Ronan?”
Ronan gives a single, shaky nod, and for a heartbeat no one moves. Ailynor surges forward, rounding the table in three powerful strides before pulling Ronan into a crushing embrace. Her tails wrap around him in a desperate, possessive tangle, refusing to leave even an inch of space between them.
Ronan stiffens for half a second before he relaxes into her arms. He buries his face in her shoulder as a broken sound escapes him—a pained thing, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
Aryn’s hand finds mine under the table, and I squeeze it as I glance between him and Brihn.
Out of everyone here, they’re the only two who really understand the weight of this moment.
The rest of the group watches the reunion with varying expressions—shock from the guards, awe from our side, and something cautiously emotional from Cameron.
There’s fear in his eyes, I realize. He’s scared of Ronan getting hurt.
Ailynor pulls back to cup Ronan’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as tears spill freely down hers. She’s a few inches shorter than him, so she tilts his head down in order to press her forehead to his, tails coiled protectively around him.
For the first time since she entered the room, the Vaelor isn’t a leader or a warrior.
She’s a mother—no more, no less.
Someone who just got her son back from the dead.
Ailynor shakes her head again, unblinking as her eyes dart across his face. “You were just a tiny thing the last time I saw you.”
Ronan’s face shifts from one emotion to the next so quickly I can barely track them. Relief, frustration, and anger flash in a blur, but what settles is confusion. “Father told me you were killed.”
Ailynor purses her lips and glances away.
“It had to be that way. I’d been building my supporters for years.
Operating under Zadeus’s nose was dangerous, we all knew that.
On the surface, I looked like an obedient soldier, but we were in the midst of a rebellion.
We spent the better part of a decade uncovering his truths, and we knew he was taking the best minds…
knew he had secret bases. We just didn’t know what he was planning. ”
“And Father?” Ronan asks.
“He knew what he needed to know and nothing more. The secrecy was for his safety. He understood that.” She meets Ronan’s eyes with a sad smile.
“And then you were born, and you were his greatest joy. He begged me to leave… wanted me to abandon my plans and run off with him. He’d even found a village, far away from the military’s eyes where he swore we’d be safe. ”
Ronan’s jaw works as he tries to read her face. “But you didn’t leave.”
“No,” she agrees quietly. “I didn’t. Zadeus was a threat to our entire world. It was so much bigger than one family. Surely you understand that.”
Ronan glances over at Cameron before he sighs.
“It is a peculiar thing, choosing between the one you love the most and the greater good.” Ailynor follows his gaze, eying Cameron curiously before Ronan steals her attention once more.
“That doesn’t answer my question, though. Why did Father tell me you were dead?”
“Because he believed I was. We were always ready to flee. Our bags were packed, our escape route mapped, and I’m not sure either of us ever slept through the night without waking at every sound.
They were so quiet, though. The night they came, we didn’t hear them until it was too late. They were too close.”
“There was a wagon hidden in the woods close to our home, with the sylvaren housed beside it. We tried to get there, but we didn’t have time.
There’s no way we could’ve gotten it hitched before they caught up to us, and the wagon would’ve slowed us down.
I passed you to Regalis and told him to run.
He understood what I was asking of him. He knew I was giving him time to get away. ”
She pauses for a moment, staring blankly at the wall as she goes distant.
“I could see how much he wanted to fight me, but you were in his arms. And as much as your father loved me, he loved you that much more. He took you and fled, and I held them off. The two of you had nothing but the clothes on your backs and the bag of supplies he grabbed on our way out the door, but I knew he’d make it.
He would’ve done anything to keep you safe. ”
“What happened to you after we ran?” Ronan asks.
Ailynor gestures at the seats, and after Ronan sits next to Cameron again, she settles in the chair beside him.
“I was captured, for a while, but we’d planned for the possibility.
My contacts broke me out when I was being transported to one of the secret bases.
Zadeus thought it was safe to move me there.
He was so arrogant that he never considered we might’ve discovered them. ”
“And you never let Father know?” Ronan demands. “You knew where we were the whole time, and you didn’t bother to let him know you were alive?”
Ailynor purses her lips, but holds her chin high in that same proud stance Ronan so often takes. “It was too dangerous. The two of you were safe. The commanders were more worried about me, and I intended to keep it that way.”
Ronan taps his fingers on the tabletop, gnawing on his lip with one of those small fangs. “Only we weren’t safe. They spent years hunting us down, and they did it to punish you.”
“I had no idea,” she insists. “I thought you were safe… that they’d forgotten about you.
Then I heard the village was destroyed, and I had to see it with my own eyes.
By the time we got there, they were long gone.
The buildings were ash, and the bodies piled at the entrance were decaying.
Your…” Her voice catches as she clears her throat and takes a deep breath.
“Your father was right there in front, arms wrapped around an Anunian boy that looked to be sixteen or seventeen.”
“It wasn’t me,” Ronan argues.
“How was I supposed to know that? I hadn’t seen you in thirteen years! If I’d had any idea they’d taken you, any inkling you were alive, I would’ve turned my armies on wherever they were holding you and ripped them apart. I would’ve sacrificed my entire mission to pull you from their dungeons.”
“Except I wasn’t in their dungeons,” Ronan counters bitterly. “I was in their uniform.”
Ailynor recoils, her tails going rigid behind her. “You…” She trails off, eyes searching his face as if seeing him for the first time. “They made you fight for them?”
Ronan gives a sharp, humorless laugh. “They rescued me, then told me my family was dead. They made me believe the only future I had was with them. I led their front lines when the rifts opened, and earned every godsdamned stripe they put on my chest.”
“Stripe?” Her face has gone even paler, and I know enough about the military’s ranking system to understand her pain. Stripes mean he was an officer, and multiple ones mean he held a high rank.
“Yes, stripe,” he snaps. “For ninety-five years, I served them. Officer Ronan, with his obedience and accolades, and his three stripes on his fucking chest. The whole time you were fighting, the entire lifetime you spent rebuilding what he destroyed, I was leading his armies!”
Ailynor’s hand trembles as she reaches out, hesitating just before touching his arm. When she finally makes contact, it’s gentle, like she’s afraid he might detonate. “I failed you,” she says roughly. “I thought keeping my distance would protect you.”
Ronan’s jaw works, but he doesn’t pull away. “You didn’t know. None of us did.”
“How did you realize?” she asks. “How did you break away after so long?”
Cameron shifts uncomfortably, but for once, he stays quiet. Ronan heaves a loud sigh, then turns to Cameron with a pained smile. “What happened is the entire reason we’ve come. It’s why we’ve jumped between the worlds… to tell you our story. To ask for your help.”
Ailynor straightens after a long moment, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Her warrior’s mask slips back into place, though it’s visibly cracked. “We have much to discuss,” she says, voice steadier now. “Not just about the past, but about why you’ve come here now. Tell me everything.”
Ronan nods, and for the first time since we entered the room, the tension eases a fraction. The Vaelor—his fucking mother—leans forward, ready to listen, and then we talk.